


You Aren't Alone

by NightOfTheLand



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Dork Lovers Server Challenge, F/M, Graphic Description, M/M, Mind the warnings, Prompt Fic, Self-Harm, Set in early 70s, also in the late 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 20:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18301133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightOfTheLand/pseuds/NightOfTheLand
Summary: Roger makes John a promise both times in his life when John couldn't hide the damage.





	You Aren't Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Dork Lovers Server Challenge on discord. It contains vivid descriptions of self-harm and self-harm thoughts. Read at your own risk.   
> The prompt was: "He'd done a poor job of hiding the damage."   
> Please enjoy.

He’d done a poor job of hiding the damage. He could see it in Roger’s eyes as the drummer’s warm fingers traced the angry red lines across his skin. He could feel the way the blond’s fingers trembled against his skin, slightly calloused fingertips raising goosebumps across his whole body. 

The blond man had seen the marks as John had been scurrying from the bathroom to his suitcase, cursing himself for not bringing clothes into the bathroom with him. He hadn’t expected Roger to be in their shared hotel room, expecting the slightly older man to be out with Fred or Brian down at the hotel bar after their flight had arrived in the States. 

John had stopped, frozen like a deer in the headlights when he saw Roger perched on his bed. The blond had blinked owlishly at him for a moment, as if stunned to see the younger man shirtless - he had been so careful the past few weeks to not change in front of the others, to keep his arms covered as much as he could, only rolling his sleeves enough so he could still play without them getting in the way and then rolling them back down before anyone could notice, begging off being intimate with his lover with the excuse of being exhausted from the nonstop touring. Roger had risen slowly from the bed, still blinking at him as if expecting John to disappear before his eyes. And when Roger has reached out a hand to take John’s left arm, turning it over so he could survey the damage John had done to himself, John had let out a quiet sob. 

Which led him here, to this moment, shivering under Roger’s warm touch, shame filling him more than any desire to ease the pain ever could. 

“Why?” Roger choked out, raspy voice rough with emotion, blue eyes looking up at him pain clear on his face. 

John shrugged, wanting to take his arm back, wanting to scratch at the cuts, make himself feel something other than the panic that was bubbling up in his chest, almost, but not quite, drowning out the all-encompassing shame and guilt. He closed his eyes, feeling tears burning hot behind his eyelids, and he was unable to keep them from falling. A whimper escaping trembling lips. 

A thumb brushed away a tear before strong arms pulled him close. “Shhh,” Roger breathed into his hair, breath hot on the side of his neck, “It’s okay, I have you, shhh, I love you, I love you so much, Bri loves you and Fred loves you, I love you, and it’s gonna be okay.” 

He shook his head against Roger’s shoulder, feeling those gentle fingers stroking his hair. He couldn’t get words out, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was let Roger hold him. Hold him and whisper sweet nothings into his hair. 

“Rog,” John managed to get out, face still hidden in the cloth of the other man’s jacket, eyes squeezed so tight he saw colors behind his eyelids. 

Roger pulled him closer, if that was possible, pressing kisses to the side of his neck, his face, his hair, the top of his head, sniffling as he fought back his own tears. “Please tell me, tell me if it gets this bad,” he whispered right into John’s ear. “Please, John, don’t, you can’t, I can’t, just promise me, next time come to me, or Fred or Brian, or hell anyone, but don’t, don’t do this again, please.” 

Another full body shudder ran through him at the desperation in Roger’s voice and he struggled a bit to pull back so he could look at Roger’s face. The blond’s handsome face was red and tear stained, blue eyes red and puffy and brimming over with worried tears. “I,” John started, then paused, reaching out to stroke a hand down Roger’s face, the other man leaning into the touch like a contented kitten, “I don’t want to die, Roger, if that’s what you’re thinking. Well, at least... it’s complicated.” He shrugged, sighing, “I will promise to try to come to you or Freddie or Brian.” 

Blue eyes stared at him, heavy with worry. “I love you,” he said simply, “You can talk to me about anything.” Roger took his hands, clasped them between his own smaller ones, calloused palms sending shivers of something hot through John. “You aren’t alone.” 

***

John shivered as the blade broke open delicate skin. He had gotten so much better at hiding this, at just not doing it in general. But after today’s news, there was too much swimming in his head, too much threatening to drown out the easy calm he prided himself in maintaining. So here he was, locked in the bathroom of the house he had shared with his wife for the last 11 or so years, blood he had drawn dripping into the white of the sink. 

Ronnie didn’t deserve this, he thought hazily, wincing as he slides another cut across his forearm, didn’t deserve this mess of a man who drew lines on his skin with a razor blade, who still lusted after a man he could no longer have. He was a failure as a husband, as a father, as a person. A noise almost like a sob bubbled over, escaping his lips and he watched red spill from the cuts. 

When dark spots started dancing in front of his eyes he realized that maybe he had cut a little too deep this time. Another sob left his lips as he grabbed a hand towel, knowing Ronnie was gonna notice one was missing after he threw it out because of the stains he knew would never be able to get out, he wrapped the towel around his arm. Staggering from the bathroom, he leaned heavily on the wall as he made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen. The phone on the wall was beckoning him and his hands shook as he dialed. 

A slightly groggy voice answered, “Hello?” 

“Rog,” John managed to sob out, pressing harder to the now bled through fabric around his wrist. 

“John, what's wrong? Are you okay?” Roger sounded more alert now, and John could hear movement like Roger was sitting up in bed. A quick glance at the clock told him it was later than he had thought. 

“I, I think I might need your help,” he said, voice catching at the end. 

He heard Roger shuffle some more as if searching for clothing. “What's going on?” 

John let out another small noise at the question, “Can you come over? I, I did it again.” 

There was silence down the line as he could practically hear the wheels spinning in Roger’s head. “Cut yourself?” Roger finally asked. 

He made an affirmative noise, before letting out another muffled sob, “Please.” 

“Okay, okay, John, listen to me, okay?” Roger’s voice went from slightly panicked to calm and all business, “Get something to put pressure on where you cut okay? Put pressure on it and hold it, don’t close your eyes, stay awake for me and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” John mumbled, shifting the phone to his shoulder so he could press a hand against the towel on his arm, letting out a small hiss of pain. 

“Just hold on, John, I love you, hold on, I have to hang up but I will be there in a few, okay?” Roger sounded like he was trying his best to say calm. 

John nodded slowly. “Love you,” he mumbled, words feeling heavy on his tongue as he felt lightheaded again. 

He wasn’t sure how he ended up blinking under the bright hospital lights, perched an exam bed while a resident stitched the too deep cuts on his forearm, with Roger holding his other hand tightly between both of his. The resident was freakishly silent as he worked, which John deeply appreciated. Green eyes watched where Roger was brushing his thumb over the top of John’s free hand in an almost methodical manner. 

“All done, I’ll be right back,” the resident spoke for the first time since he had asked John what had happened. 

John nodded numbly, not looking up from where he was watching Roger’s hand. He heard the resident leave, and the silence stretched between him and Roger. “John,” Roger spoke softly, “What happened, I thought you were okay?” 

The bassist shrugged, looking up to meet worried blue eyes. “Dunno,” he mumbled softly, “Just wanted to stop feeling.” 

Roger sighed softly, squeezing John’s hand he was still holding. “Oh John,” he sighed, and John saw him swallow hard, “Thank you for calling me, you know I love you.” 

John felt tears spring unbidden in his eyes at those words, he shook his head vehemently. “Don’t say that,” he said softly, tugging his hand from Roger’s hold, wrapping his arm around his middle, trying to make himself small. 

“What? That I love you?” Roger’s voice had taken an edge, something John hadn’t heard in such a long time, “Well, I’m not going to stop telling you because I do, and I know we both made mistakes and we both fucked up, hell  _ I  _ fucked up, John, so much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” 

The younger man curled in on himself, the full weight of all his emotions starting to take over. He let out a shuddering breath as Roger wrapped an arm around him. “Shit, I’m sorry, Deacy, I’m sorry, I won’t say it again, I just don’t want to lose you,” Roger said softly, scratching his fingers through John’s hair. 

“I love you too, Rog, always have,” John mumbled back, finally looking up at the slightly older man once more, seeing a well of emotions in those hypnotic blue eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I was supposed to call you before I did something.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, Roger holding him petting his hair, drumming a familiar rhythm lightly on the top of his head. John couldn’t help but smile a little bit. “Is that Keep Yourself Alive?” he couldn’t help the small chuckle that left him. 

He felt Roger shrug once, not saying anything for a long moment, “Remember what I said to you, oh, forever ago, when I first saw your cuts?” 

John nodded, pulling away from Roger’ hold. “To talk to you if I ever felt like this again?” 

Roger fixed him with a look that he couldn’t decipher, “No, that no matter what happens you aren’t alone.” 

John made a noise that sounded almost like a wounded animal, leaning back into Roger’s hold. The blond made pulled him close, whispering again, “You aren’t alone.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this, no smut this time but I have a few more things coming down the pipeline that will likely be posted later today. Thanks for reading!


End file.
